


Of Darkness and the Light

by Darthkvzn



Category: Teen Titans (Animated Series), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Crossover, F/F, F/M, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Please don't mind the terrible title, Raven owns a bookstore in Seattle, Rewrite/rework of an existing work of the same name in FF.net, Roy Harper can't catch a break, Teen Titans characters in the Young Justice universe, The Titans have disbanded, it's not as angsty as it sounds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25412860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darthkvzn/pseuds/Darthkvzn
Summary: From half-demon herald of the apocalypse, to teenaged crime-fighter, to the proud owner of a book/tea shop in Seattle, Raven's life has taken many twists and turns - the latter of which she'd be happy with, should it be permanent.When Garfield comes to her with news of a string of young heroes dying or otherwise going missing, however, it may be time for her to put on the cowl again...
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Koriand'r, Garfield Logan/Raven (past)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22





	1. Catching Up

**Author's Note:**

> If you missed the tags, this is a rework of an existing fic over on my FFnet profile! It's close to finished, but much like with The Girl Who Could Knock Out the Hulk, I wanted to bring some of my older fics to current standards. As such, if you would like to read ahead, you totally can! Just know that this version will definitely be better, as I, uh, know what happens the whole way through, instead of improvising my way through the original fic.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy!

I doubt Father ever intended for me to own a small business.

Then again, I never would’ve guessed even _half_ the things I’ve gone through in just twenty-one years of age. From _being...sired_ by the most evil creature in the universe, to becoming a teenaged superhero to try and atone for the _apocalypse_ I was made to – and _did_ – bring about, to saving the world by reclaiming my heritage and embracing the people I grew to call my friends – my _family._

It’s just a shame that last one didn’t last.

My name is Rachel Roth – daughter, by way of ancient, demonic ritual and good ol’ fashioned _sexual assault,_ to Arella Roth and the ancient, primal demon lord known as Trigon the Terrible. I am the last survivor of the interdimensional realm of Azarath, one of Earth’s most powerful sorcerers, and a founding member of the now defunct Teen Titans.

I also own and operate the _White Raven,_ a cozy little tea shop-slash-bookstore located in downtown Seattle.

It’s been about three years since the Titans disbanded. People at the time said it was a long time coming – something about hormone-addled teen vigilantes, wanton amounts of property damage, and like, _zero_ accountability, if I recall correctly – but the truth of the matter is that, without Starfire, the team simply wasn’t the same. When Blackfire crash-landed on Earth, beaten, bloody, and desperate for Kori’s help, we knew she wouldn’t hesitate to uphold her royal duties to the people of Tamaran. We knew, relationship with an earthling notwithstanding, her people had to come first. Robin was _heartbroken,_ of course, but I don’t think he was surprised.

Star’s goodbye was tearful, to say the least – even from me. I may or may not have busted every lightbulb in the Tower, that day – my old philosophy of ‘people come, people go’ had long since been abandoned, and it showed. I was going to miss my best friend, the bright, sunny side to my gloomy darkness, and I couldn’t even fault her. If I were given the chance to save Azarath, to bring my home back to life, I would’ve done it in a _heartbeat._

Robin followed, shortly after Star’s departure. I knew some about his exploits with the Team, mind-meld and all. I knew he’d broken cleanly with them after going home to Gotham and finding _another_ Robin had taken his place – only for the Joker to _kill_ Jason, shortly thereafter. Leaving Batman and the Team behind helped, somewhat, but it was in leading the Titans that he found balance and stability – growth, perhaps, that he felt he couldn’t achieve under Batman’s shadow. But Star’s departure _broke_ something in him, and so he quit. In public, he said he was retiring from the hero business. In private, he took off the domino mask for the first time.

Dick Grayson would be Robin no more.

The edgy bastard called himself Nightwing – the same persona from that tragic, Starfire-less alternate future Kori had accidentally visited. He quietly slipped away, leaving us no way to reach him, _very healthily_ dealing with his grief by beating up criminals in Gotham’s sister city of Blüdhaven.

Cyborg _tried_ to lead us, after Dick left. And he wasn’t _bad_ at it, by any means, but...well, he’d had a taste of leadership before, with the short-lived Titans East team, and he knew it wasn’t for him. Robin’s absence didn’t change that – if anything, without the rivalry, he enjoyed it even _less_ – and so he, too left the team. He took up the Justice League’s long-standing offer to join up – to be a part of something _bigger._ Things were _very tense_ in the Tower, when he announced his departure. Garfield didn’t see it as an opportunity to grow and develop, but rather an abandonment of duty – not just to the people of Jump City, but to his friends, as well.

I couldn’t exactly blame him for breaking things off with me when I announced I was leaving, too.

I don’t regret it. I know some people hated us being together, but it was good, for a time. He was sweet, goofy, and genuinely cared. He knew when to stop and let me breathe, and when to push my boundaries, to help me explore things my earlier, _emotionally-stunted_ self couldn’t fathom experiencing. I might’ve seen a future with him, but...by ourselves, we started going back to our old ways. Thinking himself abandoned, Gar’s insecurities came back with a _vengeance._

And me? Well, eleventh hour snow-white costume change or not, I was still _His_ daughter. I feared that, without the others around to keep me in check, an outburst of Rage could prove too much for Gar to help me deal with alone. I was terrified of what I could do if I slipped too far – I had, after all, caused the end of the world once.

I know it wasn’t fair of me. Not only did I fail to trust myself, I failed to trust Garfield. I tried to fix things by offering him a place beside me, as I took a sabbatical of sorts to travel the world as a civilian – no powers, no heroic feats, just some time to really try and find myself in a life and world no longer under my father’s shadow.

He didn’t take it.

So I left, travelling all the way to Blüdhaven, searching the shadows for the friend I knew I’d find within. Dick was quick to greet me, though perhaps not so keen to see me – even though we met in darkness, he didn’t want his new enemies to link his past as Robin to his present as Nightwing. I wisely chose not to tease his Batman-like paranoia – even if the Titans were really only well known in California, there was always the chance that someone might connect the dots.

I asked for something _relatively_ simple; a name, and a life. Something that could get me around the world without attracting too much attention. Probably a difficult task for a regular, run of the mill forger – I didn’t exactly come to Earth with a social security number – but this _was_ Batman’s son. A quick trip to his base and a glamour charm of my own creation were enough to turn Raven, half-demon teen superhero into Rachel Roth, unassuming book nerd.

Dick gave me something of an _allowance_ – several thousand dollars a week, plus paying for my airfare whenever he could get away with it – which I was somewhat uncomfortable with, but didn’t try to argue against. Mooching off Bruce Wayne was still something of a hobby to him, and I didn’t exactly have a job.

It took over a year, but I had my fill of experiences. Knowledge, food, books, and just... _people_ – an enormous, diverse sample of all that humankind had to offer. It reminded me of why I’d chosen the path of a hero, upon arrival – the sheer variety of attitudes, identities, and personalities, of _lives,_ all worth preserving. I’d both condemned and saved every single one I’d met, but only in meeting so many of them did I truly appreciate the magnitude of my deeds as a Titan – and the responsibility I had to take in holding the reigns of my vast power. Depending on the others for help, while nice, was something of a crutch – one I decided to let go of.

Feeling myself stabilized, and comfortable enough with control over my powers not to endanger everyone around me, I came back. By then, however, Titans Tower was empty.

I tried to find Garfield, but he didn’t want to be found. Alone in protecting the city, he’d turned to a more traditional approach to vigilantism – which is to say, he patrolled at random, out of an unknown base. I stayed in town for a week, but I never saw him. Maybe I didn’t search thoroughly enough.

Maybe I was afraid of what would happen if I found him.

After that, I found myself in Seattle; I suppose I was drawn in by its typical grey skies, cool air, and frequent rainfall. The cultural scene helped, of course. I was surprised to find Dick there upon my arrival, asking if I’d stay.

When I said yes, he dropped a bundle of keys, a phone, and a photograph – the Teen Titans a couple years back, after Trigon and before Starfire’s departure. He gave me a hug, and wished me good luck before jumping out the window of my hotel room. The keys led me to downtown Seattle, where a rustic, two story building stood. Inside, rows upon rows of books gave away what Dick’s gift _really_ was: a bookstore prepped for business, and a cozy apartment right above. I might’ve shared a tear or two, just thinking about the sheer change in circumstances since I’d first arrived on this world; from sole survivor of the Azarathian Armageddon, to teen crime-fighter, to having this blank canvas ahead of me.

The two years since have been incredible. Whether by design (aka sneaky Grayson influence) or good fortune, the _White Raven_ bloomed. I added the whole teashop angle by myself, deciding it was a good match. My strict ‘no coffee’ policy kind of confused my clients, but it also made the shop a bit more unique, and before long, I was thinking more about employees, new flavors, and scoring new book releases than my past as a superhero.

I brewed tea. I sold books. I made new friends.

Like all good things, it couldn’t last.


	2. Missing in Action

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel thinks she's left the life of a heroine behind - she's got the White Raven, she's got her books, she even has a friend who may or may not be trying to be a little more than that.
> 
> Unfortunately, the past comes back to haunt - or more accurately, recruit - her, in the form of a strangely large, red, tabby cat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been kind of a cringe-fest, upgrading this fic, but I'm glad I'm doing it. I love this story, I just...wrote it too long ago. Curse of the writer, eh?
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

It all started with a tabby cat.

Granted, it was about _twice_ as large as a common tabby, and its fur was the color of fresh blood, but still. Not _exactly_ a glamorous start to the odyssey.

It was a quiet evening, the _White Raven_ calm and mostly empty. Closing time was five minutes away, if that, and the last straggler had just handed me their teacup and left. Bella, my sole employee and best friend in town, was sweeping the floor while I enjoyed the last dregs of my own cup, and strong-armed my way through the final pages of the final book in the _Twilight_ saga.

“So, has it gotten any better?” –Bella asked, raising an eyebrow. “Or does my namesake continue to make the dumbest choices imaginable?”

I snorted. “It’s gotten... _weirder._ Props where they’re due, ending a book is always hard – and a saga is even harder – but I have to say, I did _not_ see the werewolf falling for the half-vampire baby.”

Bella blinked, _entirely_ confused. “Remind me, _why_ are you subjecting yourself to this?”

“I like reading everything I sell – even if it’s ten years old and kinda trashy.” –she shrugged. “Besides, I never got a chance to read this when I was younger. My teen years were... _busy._ ”

“And still, you never wanna talk about them.” –she noted.

I hummed, noncommittally. “Rather not, no.” –I said.

She shook her head, as usual. “ _Anyway,_ there’s this jazz night thing I thought sounded nice down the street. You...wanna come with?”

I looked up – she was doing it again, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, a telltale sign of her working up the courage to ask me out. Not that I needed it, of course, being an empath – she radiated hope, anxiousness, and that _horrible_ fear of rejection – but I preferred to keep up appearances. I was flattered by her innocent crush, but I was unfortunately not looking to date anytime soon. “Sounds nice.” –I said. “Not tonight, though. I’m turning in early. Maybe next week.”

I could feel her disappointment, but there was some hope in there, too. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t share a little of it. It’d be nice, after the way things ended with Garfield.

“Okay. I’ll hold you to that, dude.” –she said, awkwardly holding onto the broom. She then realized this, and hurriedly left it against the wall, where it promptly started to slide down into the ground. A tiny flicker of my power kept it in place, so as to save her the embarrassment of having to pick it back up. She then nodded at the novel between my hands. “Enjoy your book, Rach.”

“Something tells me I’ll be better served by the fanfiction.” –I said, sarcastic, then offered a small smile. “See you tomorrow.”

My sole employee giggled and waved goodbye, closing the store behind her. As always, I felt the temptation of using my powers to put everything back where it belongs – chairs, tables, books, and cups alike – but I reminded myself of the commitment I’d made. It was a good half hour until the _White Raven_ was squared away and ready for the next day’s business.

My pre-sleep ritual consisted of about fifteen minutes of high intensity training – just enough to stay in moderately acceptable fighting shape, per Dick’s suggestion – a quick shower, half an hour’s meditation, and another half spent reading whatever book I’d chosen for the night. Couldn’t exactly recommend anything I hadn’t read in good conscience, after all.

No sooner had I settled on my bed, did the caterwauling begin. Cats weren’t exactly an uncommon sight around my store – along with spiders and corvids, cats were among the animals that were naturally drawn to me – so I paid it little mind, for a while.

Still, the cat was determined; it refused to stop his calls, and then began knocking some loose tiles around, until one of them fell to the ground with a resounding _crack._

I wasn’t equipped with the patience to just let chaos ensue for the rest of the night, so I went outside, broom in hand. The cat looked at me with curious, inquisitive eyes, which I expected. What I _did not_ expect, however, was the pupil-less red eyes, and the unique coloring its fur had.

The cat was a record breaker, larger than any I’d seen before. Its fur was various shades of crimson, from a light auburn to a deep maroon. It locked eyes with me, its ruby gaze disturbingly intelligent, for about two seconds. Then, it _bolted_ inside the house. I followed after a brief moment of shock, my eyes glowing white before remembering I was a civilian, and thus _not_ supposed to glow supernaturally.

I didn’t expect to find Garfield Logan there, turning from red to green before my very eyes. He looked at me expectantly, though he looked much more tired and haggard than I remembered him. He sat, draped across my sofa, clutching his right side, grimacing at some hidden pain. He gave me a small smile, probably amused that I was more or less gawking at his unexpected presence.

I recovered soon enough. “You must be the bane of the colorblind.” –I said, drily.

Gar barked a gasping laugh, though it quickly stopped, eliciting a wince. “ _Damn it,_ Rae, I’m pretty sure my insides are purée right now. Didn’t your momma ever tell you not to make a wounded man laugh?”

“She did not. Too busy being horribly murdered by an interdimensional demon.” –I answered, curtly. “And it’s Rachel, now. Not Raven, or ‘Rae’.” –I added. The guy _was_ getting dirt all over my lounge, after all.

“Right. _Sorry._ We’re not there yet, got it.” –he muttered. “So, you’re a civvie now, huh?”

I sighed, then nodded. “Welcome to the _White Raven,_ Garfield.”

“Yeah, I saw the sign. It’s pretty cool. Books, tea...the whole thing suits you. Far cry from your _usual_ décor, though. This place looks _nothing_ like your old room at the Tower. Not even a cursed mirror for your patrons to stumble through.”

“My mirror is not _cursed,_ it’s _enchanted._ ” –I sneered. “But I suppose you’re right. I didn’t want anyone to see me and my business and immediately think ‘Raven’. I chose to leave that life behind – or at least, I _thought_ I did, anyway.” –I said, staring pointedly at him.

Garfield put his hands up in surrender. “Listen, I’m _sorry._ I know I shouldn’t drop in out of nowhere, but I didn’t really have a choice. Things are... _bad,_ right now.”

I crossed my arms. “ _Really,_ now? Because it seems to me like hopping a couple states over to find a retired superhero instead of going to, I don’t know, _anyone else_ is _definitely_ some kind of choice.”

He snorted. “Well, you’re not wrong. It helped that I got to meet back up with my friend again.” –he said. “I missed you, y’know?”

I sighed. “Right...”

“Hey, it’s alright. I get it, I couldn’t see past my own nose, so you left. I can understand that, and I’m glad you found yourself. But I _do_ need your help.” –he said, almost pleadingly.

“If I were going to say no, you’d be back in Jump already.” –I noted. “Tell me.”

“Right. So...how up to date are you on the whole ‘missing metas’ deal? Did Dick mention anything?” –he asked.

“Not very.” –I admitted. “And no, he didn’t. I know the Reach abducted some a couple years back. I know there’s some buzz in Markovia about metahuman rights. That’s about it.”

“It’s funny you should say that.” –he said. “Heroes have been disappearing, Raven. Not the big ones, of course. The small timers, the younger ones. The _sidekicks,_ if you will. And it started with Terra.”

I frowned. “I heard. Her... _statue_ went missing.”

“You mean her corpse.” –he said, darkly. He pulled up a sort of puck from his utility belt and handed it over. Sure enough, Slade’s insignia was inscribed on one side. The other was cracked, and bloody, likely ripped from the bio-harness she wore on her chest. “This is all I could find of her. No sign of her, not even a trace of her weird... _mummy_ outfit.”

“This blood, its... _fresh._ ” –I noted, disturbed.

He grabbed it back and pocketed it, nodding. “I had it scanned by Cy. Had a _hell_ of a time finding the guy, now that he’s in the Big Leagues. It’s definitely her blood – even has some broken nanites mixed in. And that’s not even the most disturbing news.”

Beast Boy took out a disc, reminiscent of our old Communicators, only much sleeker and likely a lot more advanced. He pressed its surface, and light burst from it in the form of a hologram. I didn’t recognize every single face, but I knew enough of them to pale in surprise.

“I thought you said they went _missing,_ Beast Boy. These kids are _dead._ ” –I said, glowering at the familiar faces. In order, they were Dick’s successor as Robin, Jason Todd, a redheaded Atlantean girl I didn’t recognize, Kid Flash, and Terra.

“That’s where things get weird.” –he said, then started reading some of the attached notes. “Jason died in 2011, killed by the Joker. No body – and sure, he died in a warehouse explosion, that’s not too surprising. Terra died in 2012. Her body became a petrified statue we were never able to revive, and then goes missing, six years later, complete with evidence that she might not be dead after all. Aquagirl died in 2015, killed by an alien weapon called Tiamat. Aqualad and Tempest _claimed_ there was a body, but they weren’t able to recover it, much less identify it. Kid Flash died in 2016, killed by one of the Reach’s doomsday devices – and get this, he just _vanished._ No body at all.”

I hummed. “I get it, they’re all rather strange circumstances.” –I pursed my lips. “But Gar, that’s par for the course in our line of work. We were always more likely to die at the hands of, say, a monster made out of _concrete_ than some crook with a gun.”

He nodded. “That’s a fair argument, but I’m not done.” –he said. “Because Cadmus personnel or allies were seen at or near the site of every single one of these deaths.”

I frowned. “Cadmus? The think-tank?”

“That’s just a front, Raven. What they _really_ are is a bioweapons manufacturer and research organization for this powerful cabal of supervillains called the Light.”

Memories not my own came, unbidden, at the mention of this shadowy group. Some of Dick’s memories still remained in my subconscious from that time I mind-melded with him. “I thought Dick’s old team defeated them.”

“You know supervillains, Rae. It didn’t stick.” –he shrugged. “In any case, we would’ve never put two and two together if they hadn’t re-abducted Roy Harper, the original Speedy, late last year. Nightwing looked into it, and started noticing those little connections.”

“He never mentioned anything.”

“ _Probably_ because he’s gone missing, too.”

I blinked. “I’m sorry, _what?_ Dick disappeared, and _nobody_ told me?”

He winced. “It hasn’t been too long – a month, just about. Most of the League is convinced he’s just undercover – Batman has been known to do that kind of thing before, after all – but Batman himself thinks something’s gone wrong. He’s on the trail of this potentially _massive_ conspiracy and suddenly goes off the grid without letting anyone know?”

I snorted. “To be fair, that does sound like him.”

“It sounds like _Robin,_ circa 2011. He isn’t like that, not anymore.”

My hand went up to my forehead. Though invisible, the jewel embedded there hadn’t gone anywhere. “So, what’s the theory, then? Am I to assume Cadmus stole their bodies? For _what?_ And what’s this about a team?”

He was about to answer, when suddenly, a crossbow bolt whizzed by my head and pierced his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for your attention! Make sure to comment or message me if you have any questions about this story. Look me up on Twitter as Darthkvzn or Tumblr as darthkvznblogs if you'd like - and on Ko-fi, as Darthkvzn, if you like what I do and have a coffee's worth of money to spare.
> 
> I have a bunch more crossovers in my repertoire, if you'd like to give those a shot! I also do a few shows a week of Darth's Book Club, in which I talk about media I enjoy for about the length of a Tumblr post (books/clubs optional). Currently going through RWBY Volume 1!
> 
> Until next time!


	3. What the Cat Dragged In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beast Boy is grievously wounded, and Raven's about to follow suit; fortunately, some of Dick's Bat-borne paranoia rubbed off on her a little bit.
> 
> Unfortunately, the assassin seems familiar - and last she checked, he was on the side of the angels...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay!

Word to the wise: it’s rather _rude_ to shoot someone mid-conversation. _Especially_ if the person you didn’t hit has a temper, and more power than she knows what to do with.

My powers lashed out almost _immediately_ after Garfield was thrown backwards onto the floor, groaning as he fell. I must’ve hit someone, because I could hear a number of groans behind me. I dove to Garfield’s side, standing over him protectively, and conjured a shield between us and the attackers.

I was mildly impressed with myself; I’d pegged the projectile as a crossbow bolt perfectly, judging by the weapon held by the lead assassin. He was young, a redhead though his hair was neatly buzzed, barely peeking out from his scalp. His right arm was metallic, presumably mechanical up to his bicep, and the left held a compact, collapsible crossbow. Around him, two men and two women stood back up, recovering from my instinctual attack. I vaguely recognized their somewhat anachronistic attire – they were enveloped in flowing robes and leather armor, and wielded swords and wooden bows, as members of the League of Shadows were wont to.

For a moment, I cursed Garfield; he’d led his pursuers _right to me,_ blowing my cover and putting everything I’d worked towards building here at risk. The sentiment blew over quickly, though, as his pained moaning reminded me of my priorities.

“Step away from the changeling.” –the redhead commanded. The voice seemed familiar, but not to me – it was actually a voice I remembered from delving into Dick’s memories back in the day.

“Speedy.” –I said, only about fifty percent sure of the name. “What the _hell_ do you think you’re doing?”

“The name is Arsenal, witch.” –he said, though it lacked the venom I’d expected. “And our business here is none of yours.”

I scoffed. “Trying to murder my friend in my living room _seems_ like it’s my business.” –I said, sardonically. Gar’s life force beneath me started to decline, so I knew to hurry along. “So, try again.”

“He’s already _dead,_ we just need the body.” –he said, nonchalant. “Walk away, and we’ll leave this place standing.”

“Not an option.” –I ground out.

He was about to respond, when he suddenly tapped his ear, presumably receiving new information. He smirked, then, and pointed his crossbow at my head. “I guess it isn’t. New plan, _Raven;_ come with us, and we’ll let the shapeshifter live.”

“Oh, I thought he was already dead.”

Arsenal shrugged. “He will be, in a few minutes. Same difference, unless you stand down and come with.”

“Guess I should stop wasting time, then.” –I said, and thrust my hand out.

I may have tried my best to keep up appearances, and thus the use of my powers to a minimum, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to keep a few safeguards in place, in case anyone ever figured out who Rachel Roth had been before. I’d placed customized wards as traps, in case anyone with ill intent came in – they _should’ve_ activated on their own, but I guess Garfield’s presence had kept them dormant.

That was easily fixed.

“ ** _Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos!_** ” –I yelled, and the wards flared to life, massive raven talons sprouting from the walls, grabbing and holding down the League assassins against the ceiling and floor. Arsenal’s metal hand morphed into a pronged barrel, glowed crimson, and shot some kind of energy beam, but my barrier held.

If I was by myself, I could’ve done this all day, but I could feel Gar’s life force slipping away at an alarming rate. On top of that, I could feel Rage start to gnaw at my psyche – my annoyance mounting, as the consequences to my life became all too apparent. I needed out, and quickly.

My astral form was projected, engulfing everyone in the house and transporting us away – not just from Earth, but from our entire _dimension._ I chose Azarath as the destination, knowing all too well that there’d be no one to hurt there.

Garfield was unconscious, and the dimensional travel didn’t affect me, but the other five were clearly disoriented. I pushed one of the assassins _through_ a marble column, and flung the other against a broken fountain. Then I turned to face the former sidekick, just in time to block another crossbow bolt.

“Where the _hell_ are we?” –he demanded.

“My own little version of Hell.” –I said, bitterly. “I hope you enjoy it, because I don’t have time to enjoy dealing with _you._ ”

Before he could fully process what I meant, I transported Garfield and myself back to Earth.

* * *

Healing was oddly easy for me.

It was a delicate process, to be sure – pouring the boundless power of my soul onto someone’s physical body, gently coaxing the flesh to knit back together in a way resembling the natural healing process, accelerated tenfold. The monks of Azar had often joked about it – who could’ve ever imagined _Trigon’s daughter_ would be good at something so opposed to his brand of death and hellfire?

At any rate, I was fairly confident in my work. Considering who my patient was, however, I’ll admit I was somewhat afraid of messing anything up.

I sighed as I stared at Gar’s sweat-covered face, his features contorted in unconscious pain. It’d been far too long since I’d last seen his massive, fanged grin, his obnoxiously wiggling eyebrows. His pointed ears, such snitches for his mood, betraying the pain and loneliness he tried to hide behind laughter. It hadn’t been intentional, of course, but we’d all, in our own way, _abandoned_ him. True, he’d willingly chosen not to join any of us on our new journeys, but none of us had exactly _insisted_ that he do so.

For better or worse, I promised myself I wouldn’t do that to him again. I wasn’t sure what to do next – even the lack of follow-up attempts on our lives was confusing, knowing the League’s doggedness when it came to their targets – but it was clear that my time at the _White Raven_ was at an end, perhaps for good.

It was _hard,_ coming to terms with leaving. The _White Raven_ had given me comfort, happiness, and anonymity. Sure, I’d had my fans, back in the day, but I’d never been the most popular Titan – most of the time, and _especially_ after, y’know, the _apocalypse,_ I was fifth out of five. I was a grey-skinned half demon shut-in at the best of times; the sneers and double-takes had never stopped until I started wearing the glamour charm. I’d made _friends_ here – was even someone’s _crush,_ all on my own merits. I loved being part of the Titans, of course, but those relationships had been born out of necessity, out of a shared sense of _otherness._

It was... _nice,_ not being an outcast for a while. I don’t know that I liked what that said about me.

Back in my present conundrum, I pondered what the best course of action would be. Seeking asylum from the Justice League was a no-go; they’d never approved of the Titans to begin with, anyway, and most of them full-on hated my _guts_ for letting Trigon kill everyone.

_Justified,_ I suppose.

Dick had once assured me that Batman would take me in, if necessary – and sure, he seemed the type, considering he was _three Robins in_ – but I wasn’t keen on leaning on the Dark Knight for help. I’d only met him after reversing Trigon’s destruction, and he hadn’t exactly been a fan. Plus, from Dick’s memories, I knew him to be a _very_ harsh man, even to his loved ones.

Garfield _had_ mentioned Cyborg, though: I’d mostly fallen out of contact with him after his acceptance into the League – each of us occupied with our _wildly_ different but equally busy career paths – but we were like siblings, and I knew the distance hadn’t changed that. Barring a last minute appearance from Dick, it looked like Victor would be the man to find.

That the left the matter of _how_ to find him. Gar mentioned they’d been in contact, so I rummaged through his pockets and found a phone that definitely looked like a burner. My tech skills were a bit subpar at the best of times, but even I couldn’t miss the single number on the contact list, registered to ‘Cy’.

Taking a deep breath, I pressed ‘call’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for your attention! Make sure to comment or message me if you have any questions about this story. Look me up on Twitter as Darthkvzn or Tumblr as darthkvznblogs if you'd like - and on Ko-fi, as Darthkvzn, if you like what I do and have a buck to spare.
> 
> Until next time!

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thank you for your attention! Make sure to comment or message me if you have any questions about this story. Look me up on Twitter as Darthkvzn or Tumblr as darthkvznblogs if you'd like - and on Ko-fi, as Darthkvzn, if you like what I do and have a coffee's worth of money to spare.
> 
> Until next time!


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